So Long As It's Right
by fearless-on-my-breath
Summary: A long battle with Creta has left Edward Elric weary and hopeless. When Roy Mustang prompts him to aid a fellow soldier, Ed begins a journey of emotion and action cloaked in mystery. Some EdWin and Royai, rated for blood and language.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: So…. yeah! First time writing a planned-out, full-on plot-arch multi-chapter fic! :D It's going to be a long road ahead, but it's coming along well! Hope you enjoy! Wheeee Ed angst!**_

Edward's hands curled tightly into fists as his eyes scanned the scarred and bloodied battlefield, lingering briefly on an Amestrian flag. It fluttered grimly in the slight breeze, tattered and stained but a mark of victory nonetheless.

As the alchemist watched, the sun began to sink behind the horizon, leaving an orange glow in the smoke-filled air. The only noise he heard was the quiet weeping of a foot soldier mourning- for which comrade, Edward did not know

A subdued masculine voice broke Edward's focus on the sobbing soldier. "War brings death."

Edward jumped and had his hands halfway together before he realized who was addressing him. "Damnit, Mustang, don't sneak up on me like that," Edward spat, his voice shaking slightly. "And you're an idiot. Of course people die in war. I'm not a kid." The raven-haired man only shrugged in response and stepped forward to stand at Edward's side.

"Death in battle fosters revenge within the human soul, and revenge only incites more war." Edward nodded sharply in agreement, his golden braid jumping a little on his back.

"Damned as we are then, Brigadier General, how long will this cycle continue before we destroy ourselves?"

"That remains to be seen, Fullmetal. I think-"

"Aw c'mon, Bastard. Don't even try to sell me that shit about the purity of the human soul-" Edward stopped abruptly as eyes of deep onyx bored into his.

After a moment, Mustang looked away from the younger alchemist. "I wouldn't," he said simply, his voice rough and quiet.

Edward cleared his throat and fidgeted a bit before mumbling, "Y-yeah, I know you wouldn't Col- Brigadier General." Mustang nodded stiffly and coughed once.

"I think," he continued, "There's no simple way to halt the cycle entirely, The right leadership and a lack of corruption in the political system may go a long way to slow its acceleration." His eyes shifted to once again rest on the Fullmetal Alchemist's face. "There's more to it but it's not in the realm of the military, or in alchemy either."

Edward only looked back at the older man, confused. What else was there? He found himself at a loss until an image of Winry flashed through his brain. "Family?" he supplied. "Like… the way you were raised and how you see the world?"

Mustang only shrugged again. "Could be. It's up to humanity to figure that one out- you can't just set a law or perform alchemy to force people into seeing right and wrong they way you do. I suppose that's what you could call freedom- and that's always come at a hefty price." Eyes wide in comprehension, Edward nodded numbly.

"Equivalent exchange."

There was a tense moment of silence between the two dogs of the military, which broke only when a cry rose from the infirmary tent. It was a raw, agonizing scream Edward thought may rip his heart to shreds, Sympathy filled the teen- he was no stranger to immense pain, from amputation to automail surgery to a variety of serious wounds- and every time he knew another person was experiencing the same pain, it would make him feel strange. Connected, he supposed, to the man with whom he shared an experience on some level or another.

His scars would twinge and his heart would ache, but he would hide it behind his favorite mask: one of nonchalance. Today though, after a long and bloody battle, his emotions were getting the best of him. Dropping his head into his hands, Ed took shaky breaths as he held back tears. Mustang waited silently, his bloodstained uniform whipping in the wind in tandem with the flag he served.

After a few moments Edward blinked his eyes open and rubbed them furiously, and Mustang took a deep breath before addressing his subordinate.

"Do you want to make a difference, Ed?"

The alchemist in question looked at his mismatched hands before nodding.

"Then go tell that injured man down there that he's going to be okay." Gold met onyx once more as Ed's head snapped up.

"But what if he's not? What if he won't make it, or-" Mustang cut him off.

"It doesn't matter. You've been through this, you can help. You can give him _hope_, which is more than a field doctor can do."

Edward felt sick. "I don't even know the guy! Wh-what if I… uh-"

"You're his commanding officer. The men look up to you: you hold your own in battle, and for God's sake, you're not even eighteen and you have more scars than it's physically possible to count." Mustang's voice suddenly grew quiet. "Right now, that guy needs something more than the right leadership and a lack of corruption."

Edward's eyes widened as he understood what Mustang was telling him. Taking a deep breath, he nodded stiffly and turned towards the infirmary tent. "Yeah. Ok." Ed set his jaw. "If I pass out..." he added ominously, glaring at his superior.

"I'll owe you big time."

Ed smirked grimly. "You better mean that, Brigadier Bastard." Turning swiftly on his heel, he walked doggedly to the infirmary tent, pushed back the flap, and entered without a moment's hesitation.

Brigadier General Roy Mustang watched his subordinate's retreating back, and despite the grave situation he couldn't keep a wry smile from crossing his face. "Damn kid. He'll do it even if it kills him, so long as it's right."

_**A/N: Well? Please please please tell me how I did! And please subscribe; there are lots more chapters ahead! Reviews are LOVE 3! And feel free to provide helpful criticism, I'm still improving. ;P**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Hello, everyone! Thanks for the ONE review (shout-out to BrittMarie, thanks!) and for reading the first chapter! I know that one was kind of short, and maybe a little boring, so here's a long, action-packed one to keep you going until the next chapter. (It's still in the editing stage.) Have fun, and let me know what you think, please! :D**_

Ed stepped into the infirmary tent unsure of what to expect. He thought maybe it would be like a hospital: clean and white and sterile, with confident, smiling nurses and doctors in uniform. Every expectation he had evaporated as soon as he registered the scene before him.

Orange light filtered through rips in the heavy canvas to scatter on the dirt floor, and the air was thick with gun smoke and dust motes. Yes, there were doctors and nurses, but none were smiling. Instead they were bloodstained, grim-faced and weary, running on bad coffee and little sleep in order to tend to the overwhelming influx of patients.

Another heart wrenching scream ripped through the air, and Edward immediately saw who it had come from: a soldier lay on a cot in the corner of the tent, with a nurse by his bedside.

"I know it hurts, just stick with me honey, okay? Just a few more inches." The nurse's attempts to soothe the wounded man appeared fruitless- his fists were clenched so tightly his palms bled, and he moaned loudly in agony.

Edward approached the cot, and bile rose in his throat as he finally glimpsed the soldier's injury. A jagged piece of steel protruded from his abdomen, partially extracted by the nurse. Blood oozed from the edges of the wound, and the surrounding muscles twitched in painful, irregular spasms.

"C-can't you give him morphine or something?" Edward asked the nurse when he found the courage to speak.

She shook her head sadly, her eyes not leaving her patient. "We're out until our runner brings more from the supply base- we weren't expecting to be hit this hard on this side. It'll be another few hours yet, and if we don't get this metal out he won't last that long." The man let out another moan, softer this time.

"Damn, no wonder he's screaming," Ed thought.

"Ready to start again, honey?" the nurse asked the soldier, sympathy in her eyes. Terrified, he shook his head violently, a soft, wordless cry escaping his lips. "We have to do it soon, if you want a chance of pulling through," she reminded him gently, then turned to the young alchemist standing beside her. "Can you watch him for a minute?" she asked, suddenly sounding very tired. "I have another patient that needs my attention; I promise I'll be right back."

Ed nodded, feeling his stomach do back flip after back flip as she thanked him and walked a few beds away.

He swallowed thickly again, trying to push back the nausea that continued to burn his stomach, and glanced at the man on the cot. The soldier's eyes were now clenched tightly closed, and his face was wet with intermingling tears and sweat. Finally finding his voice again, Edward spoke in a voice that felt gravelly and not his own.

"H-hey… mind if I sit?"

The soldier's eyes fluttered open and he shook his head nervously at the sight of Edward's pocket watch.

Edward followed the soldier's gaze and then shrugged. "It's okay, I'm a State Alchemist but I'm not about to order you around. What's your name?"

"L-lieutenant Nicholas Hindler, s-sir." Nicholas groaned and grabbed the sheets with one hand, as if it would ease his pain.

"Nicholas, I'm pretty sure you've heard this a lot today," Edward began, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, "But I'm also pretty sure I'm the only one who really means it: I know how much it hurts."

The soldier looked at him, his green eyes wide with a mixture of wry hope and sarcastic disbelief. "You're… shitting me," Nicholas panted, blinking sweat from his eyes.

The alchemist shook his head. "Not gonna give you my whole life story. Amputation via transmutation followed by automail surgery sure is a bitch, though." He shot Nicholas a nervous smirk.

"I'm… no alchemist… but yeah…" The corner of Nicholas' mouth twitched. "That would suck."

A pregnant pause filled the space between the two men. Edward looked at his hands again, while Nicholas clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling. Finally, as if breaking a sound barrier, the soldier let out a strangled yell, clutching the area around the wound in agony.

"Fuck!" he swore, tears tracking down his cheeks again.

Ed suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He didn't know how to deal with a grown man in excruciating pain. Finally he recalled a technique Pinako used to use when automail recovery was especially painful.

"Hey, Nicholas. Nicholas, look at me." When tearful green met solid gold, Ed continued. "Breathe with your chest, don't move your stomach. No, keep your eyes on mine. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth." When Nicholas hesitated, Edward spoke more firmly, with a commanding tone. "Just do it- when you're hysterical like this the pain is worse, trust me. Just… calm down, okay? You're going to get through this alive, you hear me?"

Ed continued to coach Nicholas until he had calmed significantly and was no longer screaming. He was still breathing hard when Ed leaned back and broke eye contact.

"I want you… to do it," Nicholas said softly, between labored breaths. "I want you to pull this goddamn hunk of metal outta me."

Ed was stunned. "Let me, uh, let me go get your nurse, she'll help y-"

"NO!" Nicholas' outburst was surprisingly forceful for a man in so much pain. "No… please, sir? That nurse… she's nice an' all, but she don't understand. She don't understand how much it… hurts." Nicholas' eyes brimmed with new tears. "If it ain't you, it ain't nobody."

Ed felt trapped. He didn't want to force Nicholas to be treated by the nurse, but he didn't want to harm him beyond repair. He wracked his brains and let his eyes scan the room, until he finally spotted the nurse's head bobbing and weaving toward them.

Ed put on his best comforting voice, the one he used when Al was upset. "Stay calm, okay Nicholas? I won't let the nurse touch you yet, but I don't want to end up hurting you. I'll help, promise."

Nicholas nodded, confident in Ed's response. A shiver ran down the alchemist's spine; he wasn't used to being so easily trusted by a complete stranger. Greeting the nurse a moment later, in fact, he wasn't sure if he was entirely sane.

"Sorry I took so long," the nurse chirped matter-of-factly. "Private Jameson just vomited all over the floor; a horrid mess that was. Is Lieutenant Hindler ready to continue?"

"Erm… yeah, about that… the Lieutenant wants me to get the metal out of him."

The nurse eyed the alchemist skeptically. "Do you have any official medical training?"

"No, not exactly… I mean, my uh, aunt was an automail mechanic," Ed said nervously. "But he seemed adamant…" He trailed off- the nurse was shaking her head.

"Absolutely not. He's my patient, and you're inexperienced. Sorry, sweetie," she added in a patronizing tone, and turned to Nicholas. "Let's get this over with, okay hon?"

The Lieutenant's eyes widened as much as his pain-contorted face would allow. He looked to Ed, already reverting to his previous state of anxiety.

"No," he told the nurse shakily. "'S'him or nobody."

Several rounds of begging and negotiation found Ed seated next to the cot, gloves off. The nurse, now known to Edward as Genalyn, watched like a hawk from mere inches away.

Green eyes met gold.

"You ready?" Ed asked breathlessly.

The lieutenant's hands clenched the sheets as he lay on his side. He nodded. "Yeah."

Ed grasped the steel with both hands, avoiding the sharp spots on the edges. "Okay, breathe out and relax your muscles."

Nicholas did so, and Ed pulled. He felt the blood drip onto his real hand, warm and wet and slippery. Some strange greenish fluid that was blended with the blood in marbled streaks seemed to seep into Ed's skin. The flesh around the wound stuck to the metal as he drew it from Nicholas' abdomen. A throaty scream erupted from the soldier's lips, agony embedded in every strangled note.

It terrified Edward.

Hearing it from a distance was one thing; the sound now thrilling through his very core was a completely different experience. It took all of his willpower to continue pulling on the jagged steel, ignore the screaming, ignore the blood, and ignore every spasm wracking Nicholas' body.

Ed's hands began to shake so violently he had to let go of the metal plate, his fingers slipping onto the sheets and staining red blossoms into the fabric. Molten gold collided again with emerald as he and Nicholas made eye contact, and Ed's heart sank into his chest: he'd failed.

"S-sorry, Nicholas. I'll let Genalyn finish up."

Nicholas shook his head. Although laced with pain, his face took on a determined glow. "No, it's okay. I… unh... I can handle it. I-if you could take automail surgery at that age… then this is nothing, and if I trust anyone with this…" He blinked sweat and tears from his eyes. "It's the State Alchemist who's been in the same boat."

Mustang's words rang in Edward's head: "The men look up to you: you hold your own in battle, and for God's sake, you're not even eighteen and you have more scars than it's physically possible to count."

Ed looked at Genalyn, who shrugged. "You started, you may as well finish if that's what he really wants. I'm here if you need me though, sweetie."

The youngest-ever State Alchemist took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll do it."

At a nod from Nicholas, he grasped the metal once more between his fingers and began to pull.

After what seemed like an eternity of screaming and bleeding, there was a metallic clang as the steel hit the frame of the cot and then tumbled to the floor, free of the soldier's abdomen. Nicholas gasped as the muscles around the wound convulsed and then relaxed, and Genalyn rushed in with mountains of gauze to halt the bleeding. Ed stood up and staggered backwards, his whole body trembling with relief.

"He's not out of the woods yet," remarked Genalyn, "but you did a great job. I'm going to clean him up and stitch the wound closed now. You can go if you want; I'll take care of him."

Ed shook his head. "Nah, I'll stay." Gratitude shone in Nicholas' eyes as Ed plopped down in the chair again. "I wanna make sure he'll be okay."

An hour later, Ed sat in the chair, struggling to stay awake. Nicholas had gotten his morphine and fallen asleep not long before. Edward blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. Man, he was _tired_. Finally the wooden chair became so uncomfortable that he gave in and trudged off to bed, waving goodnight to Genalyn on the way out. He'd check on Nicholas first thing in the morning.

_**A/N: Well? Whatcha think? :D Reviews are love!**_

_**I promise, more angst-y Ed next chapter! 3**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hello again! MORE ED ANGST! :D Enjoy! Oh and there are lots more chapters to come, it's only just getting interesting **___

Ed's heart felt light the next morning as he walked from the mess tent to the infirmary. His steps were easy-his automail joints weren't even aching!- and he practically had to keep himself from skipping down the dirt path. His excitement at helping Nicholas the day before was persistent, and a welcome change from his usual sadistic view of the world.

Throwing back the tent flap and stepping inside, Edward's gaze immediately traveled to Nicholas' cot. Lieutenant Hindler, however, was nowhere in sight. Instead, military-issue dog tags lay on the empty sheets. Ed picked them up, the cool of the metal penetrating through his glove. A thrill of horror ran down the alchemist's spine as he read the printed name: _Lt. Nicholas Randolph Hindler_.

Willing himself not to panic, he turned to the nearest nurse and asked, "Hey, do you know where they moved Lieutenant Hindler? He was in this bed last night, under Genalyn's care...?"

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and patted his shoulder. "Oh dear, you weren't informed? He passed away early this morning in his sleep. His body's been sent for burial. I'm sorry..."

Ed didn't stay to hear her condolences. He was out of the tent at a dead sprint, his mind racing and his eyes stinging. Pushing past soldiers and guards, Ed burst into the Brigadier General's tent.

Mustang regarded Ed passively- he was used to his subordinate storming into his office in Central without warning. "What do you want, Fullmetal?" he asked lazily, approaching him at a slow walk. "One of the men call you small?" Mustang smirked at his own joke, but quickly noted how far from normal Ed appeared.

Ed's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and Mustang could have sworn he heard a creak from Ed's automail hand. The teen shook with emotion as he stood before the Flame Alchemist, thin rivulets of salty water threading their way between clenched eyelids and trickling down cheeks of crimson stone.

"He's dead." Ed's voice rang in his own ears, as if saying it aloud made it final.

Mustang sighed in recognition of the situation. "Yeah, Fullmetal. We discussed this yesterday- war brings de-"

"I killed him. Not an enemy soldier, not a gun. I screwed it up, I must have."

"I was already briefed on the situation. It was metal poisoning, not organ damage that killed him. You did your best."

Ed shook his head violently, his voice anger-ridden now. "NO! I took too long... or I caused some damage they didn't see! I can't be blameless for this, I CAN'T!"

Mustang sighed again. "You're being ridiculous. Why is this so difficult for you to understand? There isn't anything you could have done; he would have died anyway!"

"I killed him; I know I did..." moaned Edward. Then suddenly he let out a shaky, morbid laugh, sending a shiver down Mustang's spine. "Y-you... you put me in that situation... you let me believe that I could -actually- do anything good." The half-smile adorning the teen's face twisted into a hateful sneer, anger pouring from his expression and making his pain ugly. "You bastard," he snarled. As he took a breath, about to launch into another tirade, his vision abruptly faded. Ed surrendered to the blackness, losing consciousness immediately.

The first coherent thought Ed had was that he was dreaming. He was sitting in what appeared to be a forest clearing, surrounded by tall pine and cedar trees. An ancient-looking car sat off to the side, obviously not used or kept up in many years. Grass grew in large tufts around it and the wheels sank into the soft peat moss littering the forest floor.

For the first time, Ed noticed a man standing across the clearing, facing away from the center. He was small and wiry, his skin was pale and his straggly white hair stuck out around his ears. He held a small bowl, stirring the contents slowly, and he wore only some kind of animal hide as a sort of toga.

Ed remained where he was, cautious. Something about the man made him nervous. Finally the forest man turned around, locking piercing orange eyes with Edward's gold ones. He smiled, showing rotten teeth and a wrinkled forehead. His arm moved in a circular motion, continuing to stir the substance in the bowl.

Edward blinked, and found himself staring at the ceiling of the infirmary tent. He made to rub his eyes, but quickly realized that his arms were bound to either side of the cot.

"Wh-what the hell?" he exclaimed as he tested the cords that held him. Strong, probably enhanced with alchemy. Genalyn came trotting over, her arms laden with medical supplies.

"Oh, you're awake." Her voice was cold, and her eyes were piercing. "Shame on you for attacking your superior like that. His broken arm was damn near impossible to set, and he'll have one hell of a headache for a few days. _And_ you're to be court martialed, for assaulting a senior officer!"

"What the f- I mean, what are you talking about? Mustang and I, we were just... talking, and then I passed out! Right?"

Genalyn's eyes widened when she saw that Ed was serious. "Oh," she said softly in comprehension. "You must have been so emotional that you blacked out. You attacked Brigadier General Mustang and you don't remember any of it?"

Ed shook his head numbly. "S'never happened before," he mumbled. "Now can you take these things off? I think they're cutting off my circulation." He wiggled his hands a bit, which was the most he could do, to gesture at the cords tying him to the cot.

Genalyn nodded. "Sure, honey." She began untying the knots, humming softly as she worked. Ed lay his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

A week later Ed sat in the defendant's chair, facing a panel of military officers. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and he pulled at the collar of his suit. The stuffy courthouse was exceedingly uncomfortable, made worse by the rising summer heat. The officer in the center of the panel wiped his face and addressed the young alchemist.

"Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. You are hereby charged with assault of a superior with intent to injure. How do you plead to this panel?"

Ed looked at his hands and opened his mouth to reply, fully intending to declare himself guilty. After all, he thought, I was responsible for Nicholas' death. I deserve this.

Before he could say a word, however, he was cut off. "He will plead innocent." Brigadier General Roy Mustang stepped up to the defendant's table and stood beside Edward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Edward Elric was neither aware of nor responsible for his actions. The emotions he was experiencing overwhelmed him, as they would any man. Surely you, as men of the military, will understand." He looked each panel member in the eye as he spoke. Even with a broken arm and a bruised face Mustang had a commanding presence that sent the officials into a frenzy of whispering amongst themselves. Finally the officer who had first spoken looked critically at both alchemists.

"Are you sure, Brigadier General, that this young man acted from uncontrollable emotion rather than spite? Can you say this in true confidence?"

"Yes I can, officer."

"Well then, I suppose that settles it. Edward Elric, you are hereby relieved of all charges pertaining to malicious intent toward a senior officer. However, it is this assembly's belief that, before being considered viable for service, you must be assigned a month of required leave. Court dismissed."

Ed's heart sank in his chest. He wasn't going to be punished, or sent to prison, or stripped of his position as State Alchemist. He had killed Nicholas, and he was getting off scot-free. It felt wrong to Edward, like he had cheated the system. Numbly, as if deaf and dumb, he exited the courthouse, shrugging past Mustang on his way out the door.

_**A/N: Reviews are love! **_

_**Feel free to send me a message with any suggestions you may have to improve my writing, as any critique is much appreciated! Haha this fanfic is as much a journey for me as for Ed!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: This chapter was fun to write- yay! I hope Ed was in character, let me know! Enjoy :) Oh, by the way, some profanity in this chapter. Please excuse the potty-mouths.**_

Edward sat next to the window, only half-watching the scenery as it passed. He was on a train bound for Risembool, where, after an agonizing thinking session, he had decided to spend his month-long forced leave. As rolling hills and grassy plains sped by and turned into blurs, the young alchemist's fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the windowsill.

_Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. _

Ed let his mind go blank, completely absorbed in the little metallic sound. He just wanted to forget everything, if only for a little while- forget that he was a state alchemist, forget about Nicholas, forget that he was quite literally getting away with murder. What _did_ those military officials know anyway- if they had been there when I killed him, Ed thought grimly, then they would have sentenced me to far worse than an extended vacation.

A grinding sort of vibration at Edward's feet broke his concentration. Throughout the compartment there were shouts of complaint and whispers of anxiety as the train slowed and then ground to a halt.

A raspy voice came over the intercom. "Hey there, folks, this is your conductor speaking. We uh, hit a bit of rough track a little ways back, and uh, it looks like we'll have to make some quick repairs before we get on our way. Please bear with us, we'll try to uh, get this done as soon as possible. Sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks." The intercom shut off with a loud clunk.

Ed sighed and settled himself down for a long wait. He knew from all his experience riding trains that repairs always took a lot longer than the conductor wanted him to believe. No sooner had he repositioned his aching rear end on the stiff wooden seat than a crash sounded from the back of the car.

Wearing black hoods and ugly smirks, two well-muscled men brandishing semi-automatic pistols stepped through the gaping hole they had made in the door.

"Well look-ee here, Ray," one said to the other as he grinned at the passengers. "We done got ourselves some richy-riches!"

"Heh, they look like they're a little tired. Ya think we should do what's proper, and ah, relieve them of their most _expensive_ baggage?" Ray snickered at his own joke, but the other man looked at him quizzically. Ray sighed angrily. "Aw c'mon, Tristan, don't be a dumbass. It was a joke! It means we're gonna jack all their good shit!"

"Well, it's good to see that at least ONE of you knows his ass from his elbow." Ed was on his feet, scratching his cheek nonchalantly. "Ya know, you people really piss me off. How about getting a real job instead of setting yourself up for life in jail?" He shook his head. "It's a waste of time and effort, really."

Ray's face turned beet red. "You callin' us washouts, _shorty_?"

Now it was Ed's turn to change color. "_SHORTY? _WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU CAN'T EVEN DISTINGUISH ME FROM A GRAIN OF SAND?" His chest heaved angrily as he and Ray stared each other down.

Finally Tristan clicked the safety off on his gun. " 'Nuff playtime! I'm bout ter get rich, and ain't no pipsqueak kid gonna stand in my way!" Leveling the pistol at Ed, he took aim and fired.

A loud _ping_ echoed off the walls as a collective gasp ran through the audience of passengers. Ed stood with his right arm raised horizontally in front of him, over his heart. His sleeve was torn, and automail glinted through the gap in the fabric. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Whew, that was a close one," he muttered, before springing forward without warning and knocking the gun from Tristan's hands. It skittered across the wooden floor, and Tristan cried out with surprise as he was flung backwards into a seat. Ray growled and clumsily fired several shots in Ed's direction- it seemed that the pair had been relying on Tristan's skill with a firearm. Slug after slug buried themselves in the wall, the floor, the ceiling. Before Ray could take aim again Ed was there, his automail arm sailing through the air and connecting solidly with Ray's face.

There was a sickening crunch, and as Edward drew his hand back, droplets of blood made an arc between his knuckles and Ray's nose. The gunman fell to his knees, clutching his face.

"AUGHHH! You little brat! You'll get it fer this!"

Ed smirked, obviously enjoying himself. "Oh, really?" He clapped his hands together and placed them on the gun laying momentarily forgotten on the floor. Crackling blue light flooded the compartment. When it cleared, Ray let out a cry of surprise; the gun was now a block of iron bolted to the wood.

"Wh-what the hell? You're an alchemist?" Tristan had risen to his feet and picked up his own weapon. His face was contorted with anger. "Damn dog of the military… you people killed my little brother!" A guttural cry escaped his lips and he leapt forward, firing two rounds.

Ed's eyes widened as he realized the now-obvious fact that Tristan was Cretian. Ah, I see, he thought. The border dispute with Creta… his brother must have been an enemy soldier.

The next split-second found him clutching his automail arm as it shuddered and twitched, a bullet lodged in the joint. Jolts of pain ripped through his shoulder, bringing him down to one knee.

"Damn. Not so lucky that time," Ed growled, before launching himself at Tristan and pinning him to the floor, an arm behind his head. The gun flew out of the open door and out of sight while its owner flailed helplessly and spouted profanities. One swift hit, courtesy of Ed, to the back of Tristan's head sent him into unconsciousness.

The next moment, Ed was knocked sideways and slammed heavily into the wooden floor, Ray's meaty hands wrapped around his neck.

"Think you're gonna take us out that easy, punk?" Ray spat, his face still tinged scarlet. Panicked, Ed struggled, his one viable arm beating like a hummingbird's wings against Ray's grip. He couldn't breathe, and he was seeing spots, and this guy was gonna kill him and- WHACK! Ray crumpled to the floor, out cold, and behind him stood a very refined-looking gentleman holding a rather large cane aloft.

"Need a hand?" the man asked, extending his arm to the alchemist still sitting dumbfounded on the floor.

Still breathing heavily as he recovered from the attempt on his life, Ed looked up at his savior. The man wore expensive clothing and his graying hair was sleek against his skull. He was obviously very well off. Ed nodded gratefully and allowed the stranger to pull him up from the floor.

"Thanks."

"No, thank _you._ You're quite the handy fighter, and I appreciate your defense of myself and my family." He gestured to a middle-aged woman and two young boys sitting a few booths away. "We are in your debt. As a matter of fact…" As he spoke, the man drew a thin pocketbook from his jacket. "Please allow me to compensate you for your deed."

Ed was taken aback. "Oh no, sir. I can't take that, but thanks anyway-"

"Nonsense, of course you can."

"Seriously, no thanks. You just saved my life, I'm pretty sure we can call it even."

The man smiled and sighed, putting away his pocketbook as he did so. "I suppose I did. You are a good soul, sir."

Ed smiled sadly in return- accepting compliments felt treasonous. "Thanks."

I beat the system again, Ed thought without triumph. I should have died, but a random stranger saved me. If he'd known what I'd done… well, he probably wouldn't have interfered.

_**A/N: How'd I do with the fight scene? Haha I've never written one before! Reviews are love! :D**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Mehhh I don't really like this chapter- it feels really crazy and jumpy to me. I hope none of the characters were too OOC, please let me know how I'm doing… Anyways, we get to see human!Al and Winry and Pinako this chapter, plus some attempts at plot-building! Yay! If you have questions about how something happened, PM me and I'll try to clear it up for you!**_

Grains of sand crunched under Edward's feet as he walked the path to the Rockbell home, and the grassy carpet surrounding him rolled with the wind like waves in an endless sea. Edward looked up at the night sky; it was mostly clear with a few traces of clouds here and there, and the stars were bright against their deep blue backdrop. _It was like this the night before Mom died_, he thought. _Just like this- even the stars looked the same. The doctor told us that she might pull through… we were so full of hope._

He was so occupied that he didn't notice he had arrived at the front steps to the Rockbell home- until his foot connected solidly with the stone and sent him tumbling forward. Cursing loudly, he pulled himself to his feet, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Damn _rock_! I swear, I'll-" He stopped abruptly when the front door swung open.

"Brother, don't tell me you tripped on the steps again." A tall teenaged boy stood leaning on the doorway, beaming at Edward. "I'd thought that by now you'd have learned to look where you step."

Edward's eyes narrowed in annoyance for a moment, and then softened as he looked up at the real flesh-and-blood teen that was his younger brother. A lifetime of military service for a Philosopher's Stone never seemed like a better trade than when Ed saw Alphonse. "Hey, Al," he said gruffly before they embraced, thumping each other on the back and smiling until their faces hurt.

When they broke apart Ed tried to use his right hand to brush his hair out of his face, but the entire arm shuddered and fell limply at his side. "Oh right… bullets plus automail is bad," he muttered sarcastically. Al looked horrified.

"_Bullets_, brother? What happened? Was your train jacked or something?"

Ed shifted on his feet. "Er, yeah… something like that. It was just a couple of thick-headed robbers; pretty standa-"

A shriek from inside the house interrupted him. "WHAT did you do to my automail?" A wrench whizzed through the air, hitting Ed's temple with a _CLANG._

"Owww! Damn, woman! Stop throwing wrenches!" He rubbed his head, wincing painfully. "You don't know the half of-"

"Oh, REALLY! Bullets? What did you do, take on armed robbers by yourself?" Winry stormed out the front door, brandishing another wrench at the now strangely quiet Edward.

"There were only two…" Ed muttered, glancing first at the wrench and then his feet, which he promptly scuffed in the dirt.

Winry's eyes held unshed tears as she looked Ed up and down, smiling in spite of herself. "You idiot. I'm glad you're home." Alphonse giggled and Ed found himself nodding.

"Me too."

After dinner, Ed lay on his belly in the automail workshop, his arm stretched out to the side and his shirt crumpled up on a nearby chair. Winry sat behind his shoulder, tweaking wires and unbolting plates with the competency of a professional.

"You really screwed it up this time, Ed."

He only grunted in response- he'd heard this before.

"I mean, you're lucky I don't have to remake the entire thing. That would take a few weeks at the least."

Another grunt.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah."

"Hmph."

The room fell to silence; the only sounds to be heard were those of metal on metal as the young mechanic worked.

She leaned over to clip the end of a stray wire, and her breath brushed Ed's shoulder. He blushed profusely and took a deep breath, in… and out. As he began to recite the periodic table in his head to calm himself, he wondered: since when did she have _that_ effect on him? _I mean, she was always pretty,_ he thought. _Just… I guess I've never noticed it all that much before. The way her hair falls off her shoulder when she turns; her smile… GAH! Phosphorous, beryllium, carbon…_

Winry looked down the length of Ed's arm to check the alignment of the plates, and noticed suddenly that his shoulders were very well defined. His spine arced smoothly to disappear into the waistband of his black jeans, and his muscles tucked and made lines in all the right places. She blinked hard a few times and returned her gaze to her work, blushing hard. She'd done this a million times before- why did he have that effect on her now? _I mean, it's not like he's been attractive all his life, _she thought as she reached for a smaller screwdriver._ But he's always had that determination- the look in his eyes that says he'll challenge the world if it means defending what's right. His eyes… so gold and- WINRY, stop that RIGHT now. _Reprimanding herself for going down that path twice in the space of two minutes, she tightened a screw in the elbow joint a little further than intended.

"OW! What the hell, Winry? That HURT!" With Ed's indignant yelp, all thoughts of his eyes and his tight jeans evaporated from Winry's mind.

"Stop being such a _wimp,_ Ed! It's just a little screw!" She immediately turned a vibrant shade of red as she realized what she'd just said.

Ed's face soon mimicked hers as the implications of the sentence reached his brain, and he returned to reciting the elements in his head. An awkward silence arose between the two teenagers as they stared at anything but each other.

Winry coughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the workshop. "That's not what I meant," she muttered.

"Y-yeah, I know. Don't be such an idiot."

"Who are YOU calling an idiot? Who's the one that got his automail SHOT?"

"What was I supposed to do, get shot for real?"

Winry was stunned into silence- the thought had crossed her mind, and that's why she'd been so mad in the first place.

"Or let the whole train get robbed?"

"No." Winry's voice was soft now.

"I don't like getting shot in the automail any more than you like fixing it all the time," Ed went on, looking squarely at the wall in front of him. "I just… old habits die hard, okay?"

Winry looked at Ed. "I worry about you, that's all."

Gold rose to meet blue. "I know."

The rest of the hour passed quietly, and finally Winry stood and stretched her arms above her head. "You're done!" she announced, and dropped her wrench into the pocket of her apron. "How does it feel?"

Ed grinned as he flexed the automail. "Feels great, Winry. Thanks."

"Now _don't_ destroy it again!" Winry's eyes narrowed as she glared at the young alchemist.

Ed made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak. "Yeah, yeah… I'll try not to." He rolled his eyes, but the look on his face made Winry think that he was serious. She smiled.

"That's all I wanted to hear."

Ed nodded in acknowledgement before pulling his shirt on over his head and walking out of the workshop. He didn't get halfway down the hall before Pinako appeared in front of him.

"Oh, hey Aunt Pinako."

"All finished with your repairs?" the elderly woman asked genially, her wrinkled face pointed upward.

He nodded. "Yup, sure am. Winry's getting faster, if that's even possible."

Pinako smiled tightly. "That's my granddaughter. Now Ed, we need to talk. Join me on the porch?"

Puzzled, Ed nodded again. "Sure." He followed her onto the raised wooden deck, sitting beside her on the steps. "What's up?"

Pinako held up a finger. "One moment." She drew a small pipe from her pocket and lit it, drawing smoke into her mouth and blowing it out again as a serene expression crossed her face. She looked at him, her eyes serious now, as pipe smoke curled into the air between them. "Ed, I know you didn't come home just because your automail was broken."

Ed looked down at his hands, which lay curled in his lap. "No."

Pinako said nothing, merely waited for Ed to continue. He took a deep breath.

"I got court martialed…" Ed spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. "Because I got angry, blacked out, and beat the hell out of Mustang. As much as I'd like to say that it was on purpose, I had no idea what I did until I woke up. He vouched for me though, don't ask me why. We'd had a big battle with Creta the day before, so he played the trauma card in military court. They let me off with a month of forced leave." He knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but he also knew he couldn't tell Pinako he'd killed a man. He _couldn't_- it would tear her apart.

Pinako nodded, as if satisfied. "It's good to see that that Mustang fellow got a good beating. Although, if he stood up for you in court he may not be such a bad man after all." She rose stiffly from her seat on the step, and walked towards the house. "Goodnight Ed," she said softly before disappearing behind the door. Edward sat dumbfounded for a moment. She'd accepted his explanation so easily- another person who trusted him too much. He shook his head in disbelief as he stood as well and made to go inside, but a sudden creaking noise distracted him.

As he turned his head to locate the source of the noise, a louder crash echoed over by the shed. Edward was instantly on his toes and ready to fight off the intruder, when a sheepish-looking Alphonse appeared holding a rake.

"H-hey, brother! I was uh, just doing a little yard… work…" he trailed off at the expression on Ed's face.

Ed sighed and shook his head. "C'mere, Al. I'm not mad at you." He sat back down and patted the step.

Al nodded, tossing the rake into the shed and joining his older brother. "Sorry I eavesdropped, I-"

"Drop it; I said I'm not mad at you."

"'Kay." A pause. "Is that really why you came home?"

"Mostly." He couldn't lie to Alphonse.

"There was more?"

"Yeah." Another pause. "I… killed a man. One of ours."

Al didn't flinch, or look appalled, or get angry (all of which Ed would have understood and accepted as his due). He simply looked at his older brother, awaiting an explanation. "What happened?"

As Ed retold the events of the battle's aftermath, Alphonse sat patiently and attentively, absorbed in every detail. When Ed explained Nicholas' death, Al gripped his shoulder comfortingly as tears trailed silently down his older brother's cheeks.

When the retelling was finished, Alphonse nodded firmly. "I see, brother," he said, and then added more gently, "but you can't blame yourself."

"I must have done something wrong. If I had let the nurse take that metal out instead of me, Nicholas would have lived! It was my own stupid judgment again, just like trying to bring back Mom. It was my fault!"

"Brother, you're being ridiculous."

"That's what Mustang told me," Ed muttered darkly, looking away from Al.

"Maybe because it's true," he replied calmly. "You don't know that it was your fault- the doctors said it was metal poisoning, didn't they? That didn't have to be because of you. Besides, do you even know _how _he was injured in the first place?

Edward stiffened suddenly, as if shocked. "They never told me," he said softly. Alphonse could almost see the gears turning in his brother's brain.

"What are you going to do?"

Through the pain, Ed's face took on the kind of determined glow Al loved. It was when Ed found something real -something tangible- to chase after. It was when Ed was ready for anything: to take on the world and win by a mile. "I'm going to find out how Nicholas was injured, Al. I'm going to find out how he really died, because if it was me I have to know. I _need _to know."

_**A/N: Reviews are love! Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. :D **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Woohoo! Another fun chappie! This time we get some Royai and some crazy Garfiel sprinkled in. I think the characters are pretty IC this time! :D I'm getting better at this! Thanks to all who have stuck with me from the beginning on this- we've still got lots more to go!**_

It was a gray and foggy morning at Central Headquarters: perfect napping weather. At least that's what Brigadier General Roy Mustang thought as he leaned back in his cushiony office chair and closed his eyes. _Maybe I can get some shut-eye before Riza gets back from her coffee break,_ he thought hopefully, sneaking a glance at the door. He had barely fallen into a light slumber before the shrill ringing of his telephone nearly startled him out of his chair. Rubbing his eyes roughly with one bandaged hand, he fumbled for the receiver with the other, wincing from the twinge in his healing arm.

"Roy Mustang."

"_Sir, Major Edward Elric is on the line from Risembool. He says it's urgent that he speak to you."_

"Yes, of course. Put him through."

"_Yes, sir. One moment please." _A pause.

"_Mustang?" _Ed's voice was strangely quiet.

_Although,_ Roy considered, _he _did _have a bit of a rough time last week. _"Hello, Fullmetal. May I ask your reasons for calling me in these _small_ hours of the morning?"

"_I need to ask you something."_

_No angry response? _Roy mused. _He must still be pretty torn up. _"Go right ahead," Mustang said lazily. "Never mind that you interrupted my nap."

"_I don't give a damn about your stupid nap." _That's more like it. "_Do you have the records concerning Lieutenant Nicholas Hindler's death?"_

"Probably. Why do you need them?"

"_I… need to find out some things."_

"What kind of things?"

A sigh sounded through the telephone, gravelly and distorted. "_Do you have the records or not?" _

_Calm exasperation? How strange,_ thought Mustang. "Hold on." He rifled through a few papers and opened a drawer or two, finally drawing a thin folder from a rather large and unorganized stack. "Ah, here it is." He opened the file and set it down on the cluttered desk, pushing a stapler and some unfinished paperwork out of the way. Pictures of the Lieutenant and his injuries glared up at Mustang from the manila folder. "What exactly do you want to know, Fullmetal?"

Ed's tone became very matter-of-fact. _"How exactly did Hindler sustain his injuries?"_

Mustang scanned the page and flipped through the contents of the file. "All it says is that his abdomen was punctured by metal debris."

"_Where did the debris come from? As far as I could tell, it was an eighty-twenty mix of steel to iron."_

"Unknown. The Cretans sure as hell didn't use metal- everything was wood or stone. The Amestris military doesn't manufacture anything with that mixture either. It was probably just a piece of junk that was already there- a stray shell must have hit it or something."

"_Where was Hindler when he was injured?"_

"Also unknown. Apparently he dragged himself to the infirmary camp." Mustang could almost hear Ed's automail fist clenching; see his face crumple with emotion at the vivid memories. "The doctors must not have bothered to ask what happened. It was pretty typical as far as battle injuries go."

"_I see." _A pause. "_One more thing."_

"Yeah, Fullmetal?"

"_I wish I'd been conscious when I beat the shit out of you. I missed my own party."_ Ed's smirk was present even in his tone.

_Let the games begin, _thought Mustang, rolling his eyes. "It's not like anything happened, pipsqueak. I just tripped over your face. You were below my line of sight, and your head is too big for your body anyway."

"_Shut up, Bastard. I kicked your ass."_

"Did not, Fullmetal Shrimp."

"_Did TOO! And who are you calling a shrimp? I'm almost eighteen!"_

"Exactly. You're so short for your age…"

"_Oh yeah? I bet you're _useless_ on a day like this- your special sparky gloves get damp from the fog!"_

Mustang opened his mouth to retort, but the cold sensation of a gun pressed to his neck made him stop mid-breath.

"Sir, you should really get back to that paperwork of yours." Riza Hawkeye allowed herself a small smirk before clicking the safety off of her pistol. Mustang nodded.

"Fullmetal, I have to uh, get back to work. Call if you need any more information."

"_Hawkeye got you at gunpoint again?" _Mustang sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and Ed chuckled. _"She's got you whipped."_

"Whatever, Fullmetal. At least she doesn't have a _short_ attention spa- okay, okay!" Hawkeye had pulled out another pistol and pointed it at a very -ahem- _different_ place.

Edward laughed again, his voice lighter. _"Thanks, Bastard."_ Before Mustang could reply, the dial tone sounded shrilly in his ear. He lowered the phone and stared at it, dumbfounded.

"He… thanked me."

Riza nodded, holstering her pistols. "He does care about you, you know."

Mustang shrugged, returned the receiver to its hook, and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose. He's got a funny way of showing it, though."

Colonel Hawkeye stepped behind him and bent forward over the chair, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his. "And I don't?"

Mustang chuckled, glancing at the door. Although there were very few people in the office that Saturday, the couple tried to take as few risks as possible- the military's anti-fraternization laws remained in effect. "Nah." They remained in their awkward embrace for a few moments, comfortable with the closeness.

Mustang swiveled his head around, aiming for a peck on the cheek. Before he even had the chance to pucker though, Hawkeye had her gun out again. "Paperwork," she reminded him smoothly. Grinning cheekily, Roy swooped in and kissed her anyway, before slyly grabbing a pen from her front pocket. Almost immediately a bullet whizzed past his nose and buried itself in his desk.

A few moments later, Jean Havoc poked his head into the Brigadier General's office to see a spluttering Roy Mustang vigorously signing paperwork. Hawkeye stood over him with a pistol, her mouth curved gently in a soft smile and her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Havoc grinned, almost dropping his cigarette. _There are some things in this world that never change, _he thought._ There are some things that are so ordinary, things that are just so unbelievably _perfect _that you'd never WANT them to change, either._ He withdrew from the scene, walking back the way he came.

_Some things never change, _thought Edward as Winry literally bounced up and down on the seat across from him.

"Aren't you excited, Ed? We're going to _Rush Valley!_ We get to see Mr. Garfiel again, and all my old customers! I miss them a lot now that I have my own shop in Risembool."

"Yeah, yeah." Edward had never been particularly fond of the Winry's large and flamboyant former trade master, and Rush Valley was always full of people that wanted to poke and prod at his automail. It was a violation of privacy as far as he was concerned. He wished Al was there to keep him company while Winry obsessed over every tool in every shop on every street; his younger brother was home with a nasty case of the flu.

All too soon they arrived at the station. Winry sped out of the compartment, leaving Ed to collect the bags. Her eyes widened at the busy streets. "Oh, the festival is today!"

"Festival?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow as he set the suitcases down on the platform.

"Yeah, the automail makers' festival. I forgot it was this week; it's going to be crowded."

"Great." Ed rolled his eyes. "More people to freak out over my arm and leg."

"Oh stop being such a baby, Ed. It'll be fun! I've been looking for a new five-eighths Whitman wrench, and they're normally really hard to find…"

"Even better! More wrenches to clobber me with whenever I come home."

Garfiel, of course, gave the two teens a very extravagant welcome, showering Winry with praise for Ed's automail as he inspected every square inch. Edward suspected the older man was getting a little more out of it than construction tips, especially when Garfiel spent extra time scrutinizing the port on Ed's thigh. Shrugging off Garfiel's hands, he stood and pulled his pant leg back down. "Enough with the automail," he muttered irritably, and Winry giggled.

"Getting a little uncomfortable, Ed?" she whispered. "I think he likes you." A shudder was his only response.

Sliding his automail arm through his jacket, Edward made his way towards the door. "Coming?" he grumbled, looking over his shoulder at Winry. She rolled her eyes.

"Duh." Winry turned to Garfiel. "We'll be back; we're just going to spend a few hours at the festival. Thanks for letting us stay upstairs, by the way- you're so kind!"

"Sure, sure, Winry darling! See you later, have fun with Eddy." The alchemist in question stormed out, slamming the door in reply. "My, what a temper on that one," Garfiel quipped.

Winry laughed. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Garfiel- he'll come around. He just gets grumpy easily." She ran out the door to catch up with the raging Edward, who was already halfway down the street.

"Who the hell does he think I am? I don't- I'm not… UGH!"

Winry only laughed again. "I think he was just trying to get a rise out of you. He tests people that way."

"I don't care! Running his hands all over me like I'm… GAHH! Damn pedophile!"

"He's an automail mechanic, it's his job."

"I'm not his plaything."

"Nope."

"I'm not even- wait, are you _agreeing _with me?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Hm." Ed fell strangely quiet, his rage diffused. After a moment, he looked up at Winry, his eyes mischievous. "Hey, this is a festival, right? Do you think they'll have food here?"

"Like you said, this IS a festival. Of course they'll have food."

Edward's face broke into a grin. "Well what are we waiting for?"

"I'm not hungry."

"WHAT? How can you go to a festival and not be hungry?"

Winry shrugged. "I'm just not."

Ed was quiet again, his brain working, until his head snapped up and his eyes glinted. "How about this: I'll go get some food, and you can go find your five-ninths whatever it is. We'll meet back at that fountain in an hour!"

Winry nodded- she was used to the way Ed jumped from irrational explosion to rational compromise in a matter of seconds. "Sounds good to me."

With a wave and a "See you soon," Ed disappeared into the crowd. Winry shrugged. _Men and their food,_ she thought. _There's no separating them._

_**A/N: :D Haha Ed's mood swings are fun to write! Reviews are love! :D**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: So sorry for the super-late update! Oh gosh, with college starting up and everything, I've been so incredibly busy! Anyways, here's an actiony emotional chapter! Woohoo- No filler here! :D **_

Winry sat on the edge of the fountain, her eyes searching the dwindling crowd for Ed's slight form. She sighed as her thoughts drifted. _Ed's muscles are looking more defined lately… has he been doing extra training? That black shirt he wears all the time shows his arm and shoulders really well… WINRY! Stop that! _

Shaking her head firmly, she dug in her bag for her brand new five-eighths Whitman wrench, just to make sure it was still there. Cold metal touched her fingertips. _I can't wait to use this- I'll have to find some excuse. Ed's automail _does_ need a tune-up. I don't know if he's built up enough muscle to compensate for the weight I added last time… although he IS pretty muscular- NO, no, no, no, NO! He's my friend. Yeah, like my brother! I shouldn't be thinking about him that way, not _ever. _Way too weird._

She pulled her knees to her chin and glanced at her watch, then stared resolutely at the dimming lights from the festival booths. It was almost ten minutes past their agreed meeting time, she noted, and getting dark. _Where is he?_ She sighed again. _He's always late._

Moments later, a hand closed over her shoulder. "Finally you showed up, Ed," Winry began. "I was starting to-"

"Who's Ed? All I see is a pretty lady all by herself." Winry whipped around to see a very tall, very burly-looking man grasping her shoulder. His eyes were glazed and sunken and his hands were dirty, and he smelled of alcohol. Gasping in surprise, she tried to jerk away, but now his hands shifted to her wrists and held tight. The wrench she was holding fell to the stone floor with a clang. "Where ya going, little miss? I just want to talk with ya. I'm –hic- an automail mechanic meself, ya see."

"Get off of me!" Winry yelped, pulling at the man's ever-constricting grip. "That hurts!"

"I just want some tips from the best mechanic in town is all. I heard you're even better'n Garfiel!"

"Let go!"

"Heh, don't think so, pretty lady. I lied just now, ya see. I want a little more than tips." He pulled Winry closer, blowing his beer breath in her face as she struggled. "Now stop fighting me." His face grew uglier, contorting with anger. "Stop that right now, little miss." He put one hand over her mouth and dragged her into the heavy shadow behind the fountain, where they were virtually invisible to passersby.

Winry's eyes widened in fear as tears coursed down her cheeks and adrenaline thundered through her veins. "I want a little more than tips," the drunkard repeated, his voice husky. "I want you."

Edward strolled calmly through the festival booths, surveying the scene around him without attracting attention to himself (or to his automail). Taking another bite of his roasted corn-on-the-cob, he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. _Crap,_ he thought with a groan, quickening his step. _I'm already late… Winry's gonna kill me. _

He arrived at the fountain a few minutes later, his snack discarded, and to his surprise Winry was absent. "Hey, Win," he called, in case she was nearby. "You there?" No reply, no wrench to the head... _This is weird- she's always on time. _He sat down on the edge of the fountain and put his elbows on his knees.

A loud whimper and angry muttering echoed suddenly from the other side of the stone structure. Ed was on his feet in an instant, his stomach rising in his throat. "Winry?" His heart practically stopped when he rounded the corner and registered the scene before him.

Winry was backed into the fountain's wall, her shirt ripped up to her chest and her belt unbuckled. The drunkard was pressed into her, smashing his lips messily onto hers and running his hands up and down the length of her body. Rivers of tears poured down the girl's tormented face.

Bile rose in Ed's throat as blood red rage filled him to the brim. It was wrong, so damn _wrong._ It was _Winry_ being kissed that way, _Winry _who was crying, and her belt was unbuckled and her shirt was riding up and this thing was all over her and she didn't want it and it was _his Winry. _"GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!" he roared, and the man looked up in surprise, smugness saturating his features.

"Make me."

Ed knew only blackness.

He was in the forest clearing again. It was just dusk, the fading sunlight dappling on the leaf litter and a chilly breeze blowing through the trees. This time, the wild man in the toga was hunched over a fallen log, his back to Ed as he did something with his hands.

A shiver ran down Ed's spine, and some feral instinct in his brain screamed at him to run, to run away NOW. Shoving the niggling thought to the back of his mind, Ed stepped forward and looked over the man's shoulder. The bowl he had held in Ed's previous dream sat on the log, and it contained a greenish liquid that looked like ground-up plant material. Several jagged pieces of metal lay alongside the bowl, twisted, burnt and of varying sizes.

The man began to arrange and rearrange the pieces as if selecting an order, although there was no discernible system that Ed could see. When the man seemed satisfied he turned to face the alchemist, his orange eyes piercing in the half-light.

He said nothing, merely gazed at the seventeen year old with a strange sort of scrutiny. The forest man looked exhausted -his eyelids drooped and there were dark circles above his cheekbones- but he had a spark in his features that communicated his enthusiasm for something. Edward had seen Mustang bestow a similar gaze on the coffeepot: tired, but even more motivated by the caffeine boost he would receive if he could muster up the steps across the hall.

After a few moments the man broke the tenuous eye contact. He returned to his metal pieces, rearranging them again, and waved a hand in Edward's direction without looking at him. Ed felt himself being pulled away from the scene, as if a huge invisible hand had grabbed him around the waist.

"Wait! Who are you?" Ed's cry went unanswered as he was dragged out of the clearing. He lost his balance and fell backward, closing his eyes to brace for impact.

It never came. He opened his eyes again to see a damp concrete ceiling covered with mold.

"Damnit," he muttered angrily, flopping over onto his side. A stabbing pain immediately jarred his ribs, and a gasp escaped him. "Ah, DAMNIT!" Glaring at the wall, he took in a deep breath. Another lightning bolt of pain went through his chest and he clenched his fist to keep from screaming.

"Ed?" A timid voice echoed off the walls. "Are you okay?"

Edward blinked and rolled –slowly- over to face the sound. That was when he noticed the iron bars. "I-I'm in a _jail_ cell?" he exclaimed, and swore again.

"Yeah." This time Ed saw the source of the voice: Winry sat on a small wooden chair on the outside of the cell. She was wrapped in a rough, navy blue blanket and bruises blossomed around her mouth and temples. Her eyes were red –_probably from crying, damnit,_ Ed thought- and she looked frail. _Too frail for Winry, anyway._

"Aw shit, Winry." Ed sighed and stood slowly, making his way gingerly to the bars. "I'm so glad you're safe. I'm sorry, I should've gotten there earlier-"

"That's no excuse for almost _killing_ him right in front of me, Ed." Her voice was harsher now.

Edward stepped forward, gripping the bars. "_What?_ I don't… I wasn't-"

"Why didn't you _stop?_ Don't get me wrong- I wouldn't have cared if you'd knocked him unconscious or even beaten the crap out of him -he had no right to do what he did-, but you would have killed him if that big automail vendor hadn't intervened! I knew you were strong, and I know he hurt me, but that's no excuse! I can't believe you-"

"Winry, let me explain!" Ed interrupted her tirade, which was becoming more emotionally charged and high-pitched by the second.

She crossed her arms on her chest and half-heartedly glared at Edward. "I'm waiting."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Okay, so… I wasn't actually conscious for that." Winry raised an eyebrow. "Well, for the cursing part at the beginning I was awake. But after he taunted me, I just blacked out. And then I had some crazy dream-"

"You weren't awake." Winry's eyes were narrowed skeptically.

"No, I wasn't, and I'll prove it." Ed's voice rose and he gripped the bars tighter. "You want to know the reason I got sent home? It was because I did the same thing to Mustang. I got pissed, blacked out, and tried to beat the living crap out of him! He managed to fend me off, so all he got was a broken arm and a headache. I got a month of forced leave. Do you believe me now?"

Winry was quiet after his outburst. She touched her cheek and flinched- the bruise ached. Finally she nodded, and looked at her feet.

"Okay."

Ed let out another sigh, his brow creasing. "I'm so sorry, Winry. It was my fault that he hurt you like that. He wouldn't have even touched you if I'd been there."

Winry shook her head and made some small noise of disagreement.

"No, don't you _dare_ put this on anyone but me," Edward growled.

"Who says you have the right to tell me who I can blame?"

"I do, because it WAS my fault!"

Winry shook her head again, more firmly this time. "It was an accident on your part. That _thing_ did this to me, not you."

"STOP trying to defend me! It was my fault, I should have been there to protect you and you know it!"

"This is a stupid argument. I don't blame you, so shut up and accept it already!"

Silence filled the room. Finally Edward shook his head. "I probably would have kicked his ass into the ground even if I was conscious. That dirty bastard had no right." His automail hand formed dents in the iron bar. "Touching you that way… was unforgivable." Ed's shoulders shook with repressed anger, and his voice was venomous. "He hurt you and he made you cry- that was reason enough for me to do what I did. He deserved what he got, although I'm sorry you had to see it."

Winry looked at her wrists, where hand-shaped bruises were starkly purple against her lightly tanned skin. She could think of nothing to reply, so she just nodded. Ed watched her closely for signs of tears- he hated making her cry, even if what he said was true- but was surprised to see that her eyes were dry. _I burn down _my_ house and she bawls, but she almost gets- well… that thing hurts her like that and she doesn't even leak? _He sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching with a strange mix of admiration and bemusement. _That's my Winry._

_**A/N: Aww poor Winry **__**And Ed goes all D: "Oh no you di-int!" on the bad guy! Hehe this chapter was cool to write! I felt bad hurting Winry (and thus pissing Ed off), but it had to be done, for the sake of good fanfiction! Ah, the writer's dilemma!**_

_**Anyways, reviews are always lovely, they brighten up my day so much you have NO idea, and they help motivate me to write faster! I love my readers! :D Thanks so much!**_


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